


and then they did it YET ANOTHER TIME and grif in particular had some feelings

by slambam



Series: nice to know you [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, lots of feelings, mentions of fatphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slambam/pseuds/slambam
Summary: Simmons squints at him, not fooled by the suddenly too-casual, disinterested voice. "You're joking.""Yeah, you're right, Simmons. I just said it so you'd think I was cool.""Smartass."





	and then they did it YET ANOTHER TIME and grif in particular had some feelings

**Author's Note:**

> retconning myself in my own series because NOBODY CAN STOP ME
> 
> takes somewhere around basic, or very early blood gulch.

It's a good position to be in, Simmons thinks, with the fingers of one hand moving up with his mouth over Grif's cock, the others digging into the soft flesh of Grif's hip. It's difficult not to think of this too clinically, to gauge how Grif is moving, if his mouth is wet enough - is it wet enough?  
  
"Fuck, Simmons," Grif whimpers, and Simmons shivers as the analytical part of his brain goes dead silent.   
  
He hums low in response, pulling back slow with a hard suck and an obscene wet pop. A shaking hand settles lightly on his head and he looks up through his eyelashes in a way he hopes is sexy, panting quietly as he catches his breath, leaning on Grif’s thigh as he keeps his hand moving. The way Grif's looking down at him, flushed and panting, with pupils blown out in half-open eyes makes his clit throb and he flats his tongue against the underside of Grif's cock, dragging the tip of it over the head before taking Grif back into his mouth as deep as he can.   
  
Grif tenses and shifts, fingertips dragging over hair too short to grab and when Simmons glances up again Grif's covering his mouth, groaning as he watches Simmons move.   
  
Well, that won't do.   
  
Simmons pulls back again, slightly breathless as he locks eyes with Grif and nudges his knees farther apart.   
  
"I want to hear you," He murmurs, enjoying the shudder it sends through Grif before going back to his work, sliding his free hand over Grif’s thigh to press against his balls.   
  
Grif lets Simmons hear him, the hand that was covering his mouth flying to grip desperately at the cheap sheets, inhaling a sharp breath and squirming with a low, long moan.   
  
"Son of a _bitch_ , I'm gonna - gonna - "   
  
"Yeah, fuck yeah," Simmons answers, low and hoarse but ending with a twist like a whimper, giving a quick bite to Grif's inner thigh and dipping a hand between his own legs, rubbing at his clit in time with the hand on Grif’s dick. "Fuck, give it to me - "   
  
Grif does, with a sharp cry and a buck of his hips and Simmons gasps softly as a splash of cum hits his cheek. Without thinking he leans forward and takes Grif into his mouth, finishing Grif with one hand as he swallows down the rest with his tongue pressed to the underside of the head of Grif's dick, shuddering as Grif rides it out, incoherent and gasping.   
  
Eventually Grif relaxes, panting, and plants his arms behind him for support as he leans back, panting. Simmons sits smugly back on his heels, dragging the heel of his palm over the corner of his mouth and letting his eyes wander over Grif's bare chest as it rises and falls, appreciating how the light sheen of sweat looks on his skin. Absently, he traces his fingers along the side of Grif’s calf where his tattoo runs in straight, broad lines and perfect geometry up to his hip.

  
"... oh, fuck." Grif says, finally, voice hoarse. "Shit, Simmons, you didn't have to - I've - I've never..."   
  
Simmons glances up, still breathing hard past a self-satisfied smirk. "You've never... wait."   
  
Grif freezes, glancing down at him for just a moment before his eyes dart away.   
  
"I, yeah. No one's ever done that to me before." He's still short of breath, too, one elbow pressed into the mattress as he holds himself up.   
  
Simmons squints at him, not fooled by the suddenly too-casual, disinterested voice. "You're joking."   
  
"Yeah, you're right, Simmons. I just said it so you'd think I was cool."   
  
"Smartass." Simmons snaps, then pauses. "Oh - oh shit. Do you not - want - that? Fuck, I'm sorry, I should have double checked - "   
  
"No! No, fuck no, that was fucking amazing - shit. It's just." He looks away and shrinks in on himself as he opens his mouth to speak again, then laughs, bitterly, nervously, and swallows like he's trying to keep something down. Simmons's expression softens from alarm into concern, and he feels an impulse to put a reassuring hand on Grif's thigh. He doesn't.   
  
"It's just that nobody wants to blow the fat guy, you know?" Grif's voice is low, thick, and it catches on a bitter half-laugh at the end of the question as he looks anywhere except at Simmons's face.   
  
Simmons's gut clenches and he wants to do a thousand impossible things simultaneously: things involving time travel and confrontations and major, MAJOR ass kicking, but that takes budget and planning and a time machine, probably, so instead he kicks himself for every time he's unthinkingly called Grif "fatass" and does the one thing he can do right that second.   
  
"That's - what the fuck?" He blurts, louder than he intended, shoving himself to a standing position in front of Grif, who glances up at him with wide startled eyes.

  
"It's - it's a valid hangup, I guess -" Grif stammers, still strained. He won't look directly at Simmons, keeping his eyes down, and Simmons can't stand it. That blowjob was too good for Grif to look this sad. Fuck it, Grif shouldn't look this sad _ever_ .   
  
"No, it - it is _not_ ." He begins, reaching out to grip Grif's chin and turn his face to Simmons's. "Hey. Look at me. Quit it. Seriously, stop it. They were assholes, and - "   
  
"You don't have to say that." Grif says quietly, sounding downright defeated. Simmons bites the inside of his cheek, angry-sad heat rising to his face.   
  
"Well, I did say it **,** asshole. And for the record, I s-sucked your dick because I wanted to. And I'm gonna do it more times. Because I want to. And you're hot, and they’re stupid assholes, and that's just how it is, Grif." Simmons says the last bit in the most stubborn way he can, the way that usually makes Grif roll his eyes when they're on duty.   
  
This time, it makes Grif smile. Just a little. He's got this look on his face - soft, relieved. At ease.

  
Simmons clears his throat, brows furrowing as Grif continues to watch him. "What - what are you looking at me like that for? Knock it off."   
  
"Sorry, I've just, um." Grif's smile grows as he keeps his eyes on Simmons's face. "I've just never gotten lectured by a guy with my cum on his face."   
  
"Well. You're welcome, dickhead." Simmons knows he's probably gone tomato red. Grif's looking like himself again, that stupid goblin grin of his plastered across his face, but his eyes are still soft. Preferable to the sad, by all accounts. Simmons snags his t-shirt from the floor and wipes off his cheek before tossing it aside, sliding a knee over Grif's thighs and settling in his lap. Grif sets broad, warm hands on his hips and Simmons puts both hands on Grif’s shoulders as he stares thoughtfully into Grif’s face.   
  
"Thank you," Grif says. It's so sweet and so genuine that Simmons is set back a moment, flushing even redder as he struggles for some retort. Instead he gives Grif a kiss, lingering for a few moments to hide his smile, then slips off his lap and flops down on the bed.   
  
"Whatever. Get busy. I don't have all night." There's a little softness in his voice he doesn't bother to hide. Grif smiles and shifts back to position himself between Simmons' thighs.   
  
Simmons reaches down, dragging his nails over Grif's scalp and hooking his legs over Grif's broad shoulders with a low hum.   
  
"You got it, boss." Grif murmurs as he lowers himself down, and Simmons can hear the smile in his voice. He grins back, eyes closed, raking his nails over Grif’s scalp and reaching the other hand back to grasp the cheap metal headrail.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading, and thank you for all your lovely comments kfngjk it really means a lot to me even if I don't respond quickly!!


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